“Donovan?” Her voice stops me. She’s standing where I left her. Hair a little wild. Eyes wide though not panicked. Just… aware. Taking everything in.
She shakes her head. “You have to go. I shouldn’t keep you.”
“Yeah.” It comes out reluctant, like a half-finished thought.
Wind rattles something outside. I don’t like that. Wind and fire never mix well.
“Stay here,” I tell her.
Her chin lifts. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Good. I step closer, hands settling on her arms. “Doors stay locked,” I say. “Don’t open them for anyone. Not unless it’s me.”
“I know,” she says.
“I mean it.”
“I know.” Her voice is steady. But her pulse isn’t. I feel it under my hands.
“You’ll be safe here,” I say, already regretting to my bones that I have to leave her here like this. Especially right now when the burglary is still so fresh.
She grabs my collar, pulling me closer, standing on her tiptoes. Then, she kisses me hard, harder than she ever has. “Stay safe,” she whispers. “And come back to me.”
That undoes me.
“Always.” Then I turn away because if I don’t, I won’t be able to.
I grab my hat, shoving the door open, and stepping out into a night too cool and quiet for what’s coming. Smoke hangs low on the horizon. Thin but spreading.
The truck roars to life under me. And just before I pull away, I glance back.
She’s in the doorway. One hand on the frame, watching. My wife. At least for now.
Still feels real.
Something tightens in my chest. But I don’t let it linger because I can’t. I have to focus on this call and what I have to do to get back to her quickly.
I pull onto the road and push the truck harder than I should. By the time I hit the county line, the sky’s already turning. Orange bleeding into the indigo of twilight.
The wind is shifting, feeding it. The drive feels endless, like I can’t get there fast enough until I park and jump out. Then it all slows down to the present. To the gusts increasing in force and speed.
That makes the decision for us.
We stage fast. Gear up faster. The crew gathered from several counties moves like one unit—no wasted motion, no extra words.
Kurt calls out assignments. “Containment line along the ridge. Protect the homes first. Always the homes.”
I pull on my gear, heat already building under the layers. The weight settles in. Familiar and right.
This is where I make sense. Where everything narrows down to one thing: Get it under control. Keep people alive.
Flames crest the ridge just as we move in. Not massive yet. But definitely hungry… maybe even ravenous.
The wind pushes it sideways, licking through dry brush like it’s been waiting for this all day.
“Lane, you’re with me,” Kurt calls.
I nod once.
